


Going Home pt 3

by TeamFreeWill12



Series: Post I'm No Angel Trauma [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, In which Cas does NOT find an alley to kick Dean's ass in., M/M, Season 9 things are happening, drunk!Dean, ish, no not that one, not very hurt/comforty, the big Revelation has happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:43:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamFreeWill12/pseuds/TeamFreeWill12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean drops the bomb about Sam/Ezekiel and the irreversible spell, Castiel attempts to get him to a safe place without kicking his ass. He refuses to let Dean have the easy way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Home pt 3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the reading and the commenting and the Kudos on this series. I hadn't planned it on being a series, just a one off, but now I can't stop myself.
> 
> It's the holiday season, and I work in retail, so I'm in retail hell right now, but all the things will be updated, it might just take a bit, but it'll get done.

 

Dean Winchester was a liar. He lied to get what he wanted.

_ " I do that. "  _

The words rang through his head, clear as a bell.

But these words didn't sound like a lie. The amount of alcohol Dean had imbibed wasn't able to help him keep his walls up.  Castiel  didn't think he was cognizant enough to try.

They were true. He was speaking the truth and  Castiel  knew it. That's why he was shocked into inertia. He froze, his hands shaking, breath ragged as he stared at the drunk man, who was defiantly staring right back.

" Betcha  wish you could find an alley to kick my ass in, huh?" Dean left him behind and staggered to the door.  Cas  just watched him, a pit of despair forming in his gut.

He didn't know which part to address first, the fact that Sam was being possessed by some unknown angel, or the fact that there appeared to be no way to fix his biggest mistake yet.

Even not knowing the whole story, he couldn't help but feel as if all hope was lost, and that he now had an even bigger target painted on his back.

Torn between fury and utter despondency, he decided to shelve these feelings so that he didn't do what his friend suggested and find another alley in which to break and bloody him.

Swallowing hard against the bile threatening to rise in his throat, he turned and quickly followed Dean out the door.  Cas  immediately spotted Dean stumbling to his car and ran after him, his bag bumping against his leg.

"Where do you think you're going, Dean?" he called, crossing the street.

"No where, if I can't get my damn key to work," came the slurred answer. 

Castiel  quickly approached Dean from behind and took the keys from the man's fumbling hands, pocketing them before Dean even reacted.

"Hey, what the hell, man?" Dean swung around and threw a blind punch, which  Cas  easily sidestepped.

"Dean you are in no condition to drive anywhere, and since I'm pretty sure you're not going to allow me behind the wheel of your car, we can either go to wherever you're headed on foot or we can find a cab." His voice was stern and level, and brooked no argument. "Now, where are we going?"

Dean must have realized he wasn't going to win the fight, so he gave in quickly. " Gotta  room at a crappy no-tell motel a  coupla  blocks away." He pointed in the opposite direction of the bar.

"All right, then. Let's go."  Cas  adjusted his bag and looked at Dean expectantly. "Do you need to hang onto me or are you able to walk on your own?" He wasn't sure if he meant for his tone to be so cold, but when Dean flinched,  Cas  couldn't find it in himself to be very sorry.

"' M'fine ,  Cas ," Dean whispered, subdued. 

"Good," he replied, turning and heading in the directed Dean had pointed, his steps slow so that he didn't lose track of the man.

They walked a block in heavy silence until Dean spoke again.

"You  s houlda  just left me there,  Cas ," he mumbled miserably.

"Be quiet, Dean,"  Castiel  ordered sharply in his smiting voice, his eyes front, but his attention on his friend.

Dean was dutifully quiet for another few minutes.

"I don't understand why you aren't more pissed, man."

Castiel  set his jaw. "I'm  _furious _ , Dean. About a lot of things."

"Den nodded blearily. "You're doing a really good job of hiding it. You should let it out."

An exasperated breath escaped  through his nose. "Dean, I'm not going to give you the fight you're looking for, no matter how much you think you want it. Not right now, when you're not able to appreciate my fury fully." 

A snort came from behind him. "Don't you--I mean, if you're not  gonna  yell or hit me,  don't you have any quest ion s?"

Cas  stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to look him in the eye. "Of  _ course _  I have questions, but I'd rather have them answered when you are sober. I  do realize that I could get the answers out of you now that your tongue has been loo sened   by however many gallons of alcohol you've imbibed. It would be too easy to take advantage of your inebriated state." He leaned in close, invading Dean's personal space. "You don't get to take the easy way out, Dean. We'll talk tomorrow, after you've vomited and sweated out the toxins in your system. Do you understand?"

Green eyes blinked. There was a slow nod.

"Good."

As they continued walking, it was silent, but for the occasional car rumbling by.

Thankfully the walk to the motel was very short (yet made longer by the stumbling drunk), otherwise Castiel would have given in and started asking questions.

Since Dean wasn't staying at the bunker, wasn't physically attached to his brother, Castiel could only assume that wasn't an immediate threat, and that his questions and concerns could wait until morning. He would call Sam then, and warn him that he was bringing his brother back for a long overdue discussion.

And _then_  he could find out who told Dean that Metatron's spell couldn't be reversed, and if there was any truth to it.

They followed the sidewalk to a brick complex with a bright pink neon sign that boasted of cable and climate-controlled rooms.

"Is this the place?"

"Home sweet home," Dean intoned, no sarcasm in his tone, only bleak sadness.

_He dug the hole, now he had to lie in it_. Or whatever the saying was.

Seconds later, he burned with guilt and shame. He still didn't know if the angel possessing Sam was the reason for Dean telling him he couldn't stay in the bunker, but he really shouldn't be this cold and angry to his friend right now, regardless of fault, regardless of reason.

Dean was obviously hurting, obviously knew who was at fault, and just added the guilt and blame to the heap. He was adding to that pile of problems, and he never again wanted Dean to feel this way because of him.

He could wait for the explanation, and if one didn't come, _then_  he could ask his questions, air his grievances.

He could put his own hurt aside, just for the moment, and help his friend. It was selfish of him, but he didn't want Dean to be in pain, because it caused Castiel to hurt.

Purely selfish.

"What's your room number?" he asked kindly, his voice softer.

"One-twelve," Dean replied hoarsely. "It's around back."

They shuffled around the side of the brick building until they came to a white door with peeling paint and an upside down  _2_.

"Do you have your key?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, his hands checking his pockets. He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over to Cas, who made quick work of unlocking the door and letting Dean stumble in ahead of him.

"Where's the light switch?"

"Doesn't work. _Oof_. Hang on."

It took a few moments before Dean reached the lamp next to the bed and clicked it on.

"The only lights that work in here are this one and the one in here," Dean explained, turning on the bathroom light, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Cas looked around, taking in the general shabbiness of the room. Cigarette burns in the flattened, stained carpet, broken window blinds, torn curtains...Beer bottles, liquor bottles strewn across the room amidst dirty clothes and fast food wrappers that hadn't made it to the trash can. And still, two beds, two beds covered in tacky, stained linens.

As long as he'd known the Winchesters, they'd _never_  stayed in a place this ugly, this horrible, before.

He didn't even ask himself _Why_?

Dean Winchester didn't believe he deserved good things. And when Dean Winchester screwed up, he believed it even less.

The bathroom door opened. Dean turned off the light and fell onto one of the beds, his face buried in a pillow. He hadn't even bothered to take off his jacket, nor his boots, so Cas helped him out.

When he moved to get up from the bed, Dean reached out, holding onto him.

"Cas, don't leave me again."

Dean wasn't looking at him, but Castiel could hear the plea and naked vulnerability in his voice, so he placed his hand lightly on the top of Dean's head.

"As long as you'll have me, I'll be here. But you've got to promise not to ask me to leave again."

Dean's grip tightened. "I promise, Cas."

The answer was too quick.

Dean Winchester lied.

Dean Winchester lied to get what he wanted.

"Go to sleep, Dean," he said softly, moving out of his grip. "We'll talk in the morning."

"You'll be here."

Castiel's heart cracked. "Yes."

Satisfied with the answer, Dean seemed to pass out.

Castiel sighed and rubbed his forehead, his exhaustion catching up with him. He went to use the bathroom and splash some water on his face before going back to the main room, where he cleared a spot on the second bed to lie down.

He kicked off his shoes, placed his jacket on top of his bag and turned off the lamp before lying down.

A few minutes later, his eyes were closed, and he was on his way under when Dean broke the silence.

"Cas?"

"Hm?"

"You shoulda left me. You shoulda left me in Hell."

The words were mumbled and slurred, but Castiel heard them clearly. His eyes opened wide and he lay in the darkfor several long breaths before tumbling into unconsciousness.


End file.
